Chapter Text
23:04
Osgood: Kate?
Osgood: There?
23:42
Kate: It’s almost midnight. You were ordered to be unconscious by a medical professional with more letters after their name than I have patience for.
Go. To. Sleep.
Osgood: I tried.
Osgood: The ceiling fan is making this weird clicking noise. Also my ribs hurt when I breathe lying down.
Osgood: Did you know ribs can be passive aggressive?
Kate: Fascinating medical discovery.
Kate: Tell it to the morphine and then both of you shut up until morning.
Osgood: I’m not even on the good stuff anymore. Just paracetamol.
Osgood: What’s happening at the Tower? Is it the rift thing again?
Kate: It is classified, it is contained, and it is currently someone else’s problem for the next forty-seven minutes until the night shift rotation. Which means you should be horizontal and not texting the Head of UNIT at stupid o’clock.
Osgood: Horizontal is overrated.
00:12
Osgood: I keep replaying the bit where the containment field flickered and I thought “this is how I become a very small crisp”.
Osgood: Brain won’t switch off
Kate: Good Lord
Kate: You’re fine. You’re home. You’re breathing.
Kate: All excellent signs that you did not become a crisp.
Osgood: Technically I’m breathing through one lung and a lot of stubbornness.
Are you still in the ops room?
Kate: In the corridor outside the ops room pretending to be on my way to get coffee while actually monitoring whether Jenkins has finally cracked and started talking to the sentient coffee machine again.
Osgood: He’s going to propose to it one day.
Mark my words.
00:22
Osgood: Tell me something boring so I fall asleep?
Kate: You’re incorrigible
fine…
kate: The latest requisition form for replacement containment foam has seventeen separate approval signatures required because someone (not naming names) once used it to make a snowman during the 2019 Silurian heatwave incident.
Osgood: That was artistic protest.
Osgood: And the snowman was majestic.
Kate: It melted on the Quartermaster’s desk and he still refers to you as “the foam terrorist”
Osgood: Oh Kate. It didn’t work! I’m still wide awake
Kate: Then let me be very clear
Osgood: Uh oh
Kate: If you do not achieve REM sleep in the next thirty minutes I’m going to come over there, confiscate your phone, and read you the entirety of the 2024 Equipment Requisition Audit Report until your eyes close from sheer boredom.
Osgood: That’s cruel.
Osgood: Also… kind of sweet?
Osgood: In a terrifying bureaucratic way.
Kate: Not sweet. It is pragmatic concern for one of my best scientists who seems determined to turn a bruised ribcage into a full medical event.
Osgood: You said “best”.
I’m framing that.
Kate: You’re framing nothing because you’re going to sleep.
…How bad is the pain, honestly?
Osgood: Scale of one to ten?
Osgood: About a six when I breathe normally. Seven when I laugh. Eight when I try to lie down. Manageable. Just… loud.
Kate: That is not manageable.
Kate: That is “should have stayed in the observation ward longer” territory.
Did you take the second dose of co-codamol?
Osgood: Yes, boss. Forty minutes ago.
Osgood: It’s doing the thing where it makes everything fuzzy but doesn’t actually turn the volume down.
Kate: Then stop texting me and let it work.
Osgood: I will. Soon. Just… needed to hear you say it’s okay.
Osgood: Even if you say it in your scary Director voice.
Kate: It IS alright. You did everything right. The containment failure wasn’t your fault. You got out. You’re here.
And I would very much like you to stay here, in one piece, for the foreseeable future.
Osgood: That’s the nicest threat I’ve ever received!
Kate: Not a threat. Request.
Kate: With slightly more urgency than usual
Osgood: I’m going to sleep now
Osgood: Promise
Osgood: But you have to text me when you finally leave tonight
Osgood: Even if it’s stupid o’clock
Kate: I will text you.
Kate: And if you’re still awake when the message arrives I will come over and staple your eyelids shut
Osgood: Romantic
Kate: Pragmatic
Kate: Goodnight, Petronella.
Kate: Breathe slowly. No more screens. I mean it.
Osgood: Goodnight Kate. Thank you for worrying
Osgood: Even a little bit
Kate: sleep
Osgood: Trying
03:04
Osgood is typing…..